NMW
by Blurby
Summary: Set at the hospital after SWAK. Mild TATE shipping here.


**NMW**

A/N...

Episode response fic. to SWAK.

Was anyone just the _slight_ bit annoyed of the omnipresent blue of the UV lights in all of the Tony/Kate scenes? Yeah...me too.

Anyway, please excuse any silly errors, typing or otherwise. I will re-edit my work ASAP. It seems there's something either wrong with my comp. or the editor, as several words seem to lose the spaces between them. Hopefully, it'll go away. My first NCIS fic :)

(Thanks to the review that pointed out it was Nurse Emma, not Doctor)

* * *

I decide right then and there that all my clothes that even _resemble_ this nauseating hue of blue are going straight to the Salvation Army. Every time I attempt to close my eyes, the dizzying light manages to sneak behind my lids. 

I feel a cough coming on as a tickling sensation creeps up my throat. I glance at Tony as I hold my breath. He's finally shut off about _Alien_, and his breathing, though sometimes short and strained, comes in semi-regular intervals.

My nose twitches and I clench my teeth behind pursed lips. I ball up my fists in frustration, and I can feel the nails digging into the soft skin of my palms, but it's all to no avail, as I half-snort, half-gag from the repression of the cough.

I shut my mouth up again when I notice it's hanging open quite dumbly, and curse myself for my lack of restraint. For one moment, hope wells up in me as he fails to make any response. Maybe he didn't hear my snort-gag.

However, a small chuckle escapes his dry lips and he let's me have it. "You're stronger than me, huh, Kate?"

"You know it," I shoot back. I bite my tongue immediately after the response leaves my mouth. I shouldn't be acting like this. The feigned nonchalance, it may have worked in the beginning, but I can no longer stand it. I don't want to formulate those sharp-witted repartees in my head anymore, or make low blows at Tony when I should be supporting him.

I think that perhaps he's come to the same realization when he says softly, "This near-death experience has really opened my eyes to what's important in life, Kate." I can't help but arch an eyebrow. "Once we get out of here, I'm going to make a big, glossy poster of that wet T-shirt number. Four by five, right in my bedroom."

I open my mouth in surprise, but snap it shut when I remember my new mantra: _no more witticisms_. _NMW_, I say in my head about ten times. Stillness hangs in the air, but I don't really mind, as the NMW repetition seems to be taking all my attention.

He coughs. A shiver goes down my spine. "Eight by ten. I can wake up every morning to it," he says, correcting himself. I ignore the fact that his speech is somewhat slurred. The words come out slowly, as if he's trying to find them. It's not right. Tony's not supposed to be slow.

Still, I give no response. About two dozen thoughts whir around in my head, each seeming more tempting than the last, but I stick to my vow of silence.

He sighs raggedly. I finally force myself to look at him to see that he's studying me intently. Even in the poor lighting I see that his face is worn, pale, but his eyes are alert.

"What's wrong, Kate?"

NMW has no effect this time, as I laugh sardonically. "What _hasn't_ gone wrong today?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm still alive," he says, as if it's the most simple thing in the world. "You got to meet Brad Pitt, and this hospital food isn't too shabby."

"Get some sleep, Tony," I whisper as I turn on my side away from him, and hoping he'll be discouraged. "You need your rest."

"Why're you still-" he's cut off by a particularly long string of coughs. They sound wet and heavy as they escape his throat. I close my eyes as the noise echoes in the small chamber. "…here."

I hear a small bit of ruffling and movement. I throw the covers off my legs and get up to see that he's reaching for the box of tissues that has been left on the small table that was brought in beside his bed. His eyes are drooped, and the bags under them are more evident now than every before. He turns away from me, as my gaze lingers on his face longer than it should.

Behind me, I see Nurse Emma getting up from her seat to give a hand, but I wave her back before walking to him and grabbing a Kleenex. I fold it up gently when I see a faint streak of blood on his chin that he attempted to wipe away with the back of his sleeve. I see her hesitate in the corner of my eye, but she retreats back, seemingly melting into the darkness of the surroundings.

"Gross, Tony," I breathe before rounding the bed and reaching out to press the tissue to the corner of his mouth. "What do you do at home when you eat something messy?"

His face holds an expression of shock for a split second as the tissue absorbs some of the stain. My feet shuffle forward as I hold it out in front of me. The dark blotch looks ominous against the pristine white of the tissue.

"Etiquette is my middle name," he says. "I have a silk handkerchief at home. Sauce on my tie? No problem." His eyes close, and I hear the haggard throaty noises coming from him as he tries to suppress another cough, as I had done just moments before. "A dab here, there, and…voila." His voice is strained.

I smile slightly and feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me as tears prick at my eyes. He tilts his head up and studies me, his lips forming a thin line across his face.

"This isn't half-bad," he says finally. "Not many people can say that they've got their very own Kate to take care of them. At least I'll have one for tonight."

I swallow hard and take his hand in mine. If the action surprises him, he doesn't let it show. I lean over him and bring his palm to my face. The IV line Dr. Pitt attached to his forearm is pulled taut as I do so. "Tony, no matter what happens, I'll _always_ be here to take care of you."

His fingers curl slightly around my chin, and I'm disheartened to realize that his skin is cold to the touch. He nods and whispers, "You know I'm there for you, right?"

"Yeah," I say as I gently lower his arm back to his side.

"Because you, Agent Todd, always seem to need my help," he snickers as he closes his eyes for what seems to be the hundredth time this night.

I wave him off and go back to my bed. I lie down on my back, pull the sheet up to my waist, and give a theatrical yawn, that's really more for show than it is authentic. The truth is, I know I won't get even a moment of shuteye tonight.

As a final thought, I call out, "If I hear anything about the wet-T picture again-"

"You'll punish me, Kate?" he says. "Sounds like fun."

"Sleep tight," I laugh.

He murmurs something unintelligible before giving a final little wheeze in my direction. It sounds vaguely like 'thank you', and I grin inwardly.

The hell to NMW.

END


End file.
